Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville

CHAPTER THREE

00 hothead 00

Cheating was one of the worst things you could do to yourself in High School. It wasn't just because you'd get suspended, or that you wouldn't learn the material, it was the permanent black mark it left on your record. Every academic debacle in high school stayed with you for the rest of your life, and with cheating on your record no college would even look at you. Without a college degree there weren't a lot of jobs you could do, or money you could earn.

So for the football players who were caught cheating on their math midterm, it pretty much ensured them minimum wage, blue collar jobs.

There was also the fact that cheating jocks were a definite headline for the Torch and Chloe was ruthless.

"Football: Sport or Abuse?" Clark read the headline off the paper, the picture of Coach Walt screaming in the helmeted face of some player complementing it well.

"So, what do you think?" Chloe asked excitedly.

"Wonderfully controversial," I told her and she beamed.

"I think you seriously need to decrease your cappuccino dependency," Clark said as he folded up the paper.

"Pete thinks I'm being too hard on Coach Walt."

I looked at Pete questionably, "I mean, the man coached my dad, all my brothers. He used to come over and watch the Superbowl."

"So," I said drawing the word out, "Your biased."

Chloe smiled, "While I'm touched by that Hallmark moment you don't get points for subtly in journalism. I've already started getting hate mail."

"That's great, Chloe," I congratulated her.

"You two seem very happy about that, why?"

"Because it means I'm hitting a nerve," Chloe answered Clark, "besides between the abysmal sentence structure and generous use of obscenities, I've got a good idea who's been sending it."

"If you think my teammates read the Torch, you're giving them way too much credit," Pete said, ruffling Chloe's hair.

Further discourse was halted by Lana Lang storming past us and away from her boyfriend.

"There's something you don't see everyday. A pom-pom meltdown." Chloe crowed.

I watched speculatively, Lex's words from our conversation a few days ago coming to mind. I guess he was onto something.

"Oh, oh, here they come. I need a picture of the cheating jocks." Chloe ordered as the offenders walked by and over to Coach Walt.

"Look I don't want to hear any rumors going around or false accusations…" The man began.

"Any idea how they got the midterm?" asked Clark.

I eyed the coach, "I might have an few."

Chloe shook her head, "Still a mystery, but I'm working on it."

"We got a problem..." I could hear the coach say.

"What's she doing?" asked one of the jocks, looking at Chloe holding the camera. He scowled before sending a football straight for Chloe's head.

I jumped behind Clark instinctualy, but crisis was averted when Clark caught the ball inches from Chloe's head.

Pete crowed, "Nice catch!"

"One of your teammates tries to assassinate me and all you can say is 'nice catch'?" Chloe demanded, before storming away.

"I thought you wanted to hit a nerve?" Pete called to her.

"Wow, real smooth Ross," I said smiling as we split up to go to our respective homerooms. I absently noted Clark sending the football back into the throwers gut, hard, and was vindictively pleased on Chloe's behalf.

0000

At lunch we saw the coach again, Pete, Clark, and I were going to the vending machine. School food may be nutritious, but no way was I going to eat it.

"Hey Kent, I saw your arm out there," called the coach to Clark, "technique was lousy but you've got a lot of power."

"Thanks," Clark said, smiling at the backhanded complement.

"Why aren't you on the team?"

"Wow," I said, wide-eyed, "your subtly astounds me." The man scowled violently at me and I registered a tingling in the air.

"My dad need me on the farm," Clark said, directing the coach's attention away from me.

"Your school needs you on the field. We got a big game Friday, we're short players. Look, look, I know your dad would understand."

"No, he wouldn't." I said, smiling sweetly.

"He's kind of stubborn," Clark said awkwardly.

"Yeah, I remember. Jonathan Kent was one of the best athletes I ever coached. A lot of God-given talent. It's in your genes, Kent."

"Actually, I'm adopted." Clark replied and I had to muffle the snort that escaped my mouth at the coach's grimace.

"Look, I'm giving you the chance to be part of something special. A part of history. Now I've seen you stare at your father's picture in that trophy case, Don't tell me you don't want to be a part of this. Now why don't you suit up. I mean look at Ross, he doesn't have a lick of natural talent, but he's got a truckload of heart."

"Thanks, I guess," Pete mumbled halfheartedly.

I could tell Clark was eating this up, "You know dad's not going to let you play."

Clark hesitated, "Let me think about it."

Coach Walt looked around before spotting something, "Fordman, get over here."

Whitney and Lana came over and my stock felt almost as if it had turned to lead, although logic dictated that that was implausible.

"Fordman's the team captain. How do you think Kent would do on the field? I mean, considering our current predicament."

Whitney looked Clark up and down, "He might do alright."

"He seems afraid though," the coach goaded.

"That's not the reason, is it Clark?" asked Lana.

"It's my dad –" Clark began.

"Kent." The Coach walked over to get in Clark's face, "There comes a time when you've got to step out of your father's shadow and be your own man. Now, what do you say? Are you ready to be your own man?"

I closed my eyes, knowing and dreading the answer without even looking at Clark's face. There was only one answer he could give after that speech, facing Whitney and Lana, and I couldn't bring myself to watch the answer I knew I couldn't stop.

"Count me in."

I leaned over and started banging my head on the wall, drowning out the coach's reply.

"Way to stick to your guns Clark. Way to not be manipulated," My deadpan still carried over plenty of sarcasm.

"Hey, Clark, hey," said Pete, "Remind me what your dad said last time you asked him to play."

"He said no."

"He said no. That's what I thought. Call me when the hurtings done, okay." Said Pete, patting Clark on the shoulder as he walked away.

I watched realization dawn as excitement turned to dread. Then he turned to me and I saw his most charming smile spread across his face.

"No, no, no," I shouted, already backing away, "This is your problem and I am not getting into it. I am neutral! I am Switzerland! You hear me, Switzerland!" Then I turned and bolted.

As soon as I got home I was going to my workshop to start imporving my solar panels, and I wasn't going near Clark or Dad until my brother had broken the news.

I was not getting involved in this.

0000

It appears that my choice to not attend Clark's practice was a mistake. Apparently afterward someone had torched Principal Kwan's car with him still inside. Thankfully Clark was there to save him. I was informed of this when I came inside to eat dinner.

I kept seeming to miss the exciting things.

"Okay. Thanks. Bye-bye." Mom said before hanging up the phone, "Principal Kwan's going to be in the hospital till over the weekend."

"Is he going to be alright?" asked Clark.

"He's got burns and suffered smoke inhalation, but he'd going to be okay."

"Anybody see you son?" asked dad, picking at his food.

"Nobody saw me dad," said Clark, hurt evident. "I told the paramedics that I wrapped my hands in my jacket when I pulled him out."

"Lucky you were there."

Clark cracked a smile at mom's comment but he then glared at dad, "Well, I kind of missed my ride."

"Look, at least I saw you play, all right?"

I poked at my food, "I already know Clark can be an awesome football player, even without his powers. I have other things to do than validate a certainty." I muttered defensively, looking up to see Clark's raised eyebrow, causing me to hunch my shoulders and say, "I'll come to your game, okay? But I really was busy."

Satisfied he had me appropriately guilt-tripped he turned to dad, otherwise known as the-jerk-that-threw-me-under-the-metaphoric-bus.

"You could have easily hurt one of those boys."

"But the point is, I didn't." Clark said, getting up and joining dad as they put their dishes away. "Why are we even having this conversation? He's never going to believe me."

I got up, giving up on finishing dinner, the discord in the house making it hard for me to stomach anything.

"By the way, the coach gave me your old position. Your looking at the starting tailback for this Friday's game," He said proudly, only for dad to walk away without responding. "Don't everyone congratulate me at once."

"Congratulations," I said, dumping my leftovers in the food trash and nearly throwing my dishes in the sink. I almost ran to my bedroom, before throwing on some pajamas and curling up in my bed.

After an hour or two of uselessly lying there watching the sun go down outside my window I gave up and got up to go to my workshop.

I snuggled up on the couch I had for these very occasions, turning all the lights and computers on with my homemade clap-on system. There, with all the lights shining and listening to the hum of the computers; I was finally able to fall asleep.

0000

Clark knew, of course he knew. Before my workshop was built it was his room I had crawled into and begged him to keep all the lights on every time there was an argument in the house, whether over money, or Clark's abilities. I hated it whenever there was fighting at home, as it never failed to remind me of the unrest before I was put into storage.

I created this ritual because otherwise I couldn't sleep, and Clark had witnessed all the less successful stages himself. So I really shouldn't have been so surprised when he came to my workshop the next morning, carrying a change of clothes, my backpack, and a chocolate-peanut butter smoothie, my favorite kind.

I didn't say a word as he loaded me onto his back and ran us into town, knowing with the completion of my solar panels there was something I needed to get. It was the patent application, so that I could legally own my design, and I had been wanting to get it yesterday before the football issue came up.

It caused a big enough lift to my mood that I agreed to come to the pep rally after school.

Once we were there my mood quickly sunk, as the fire didn't provide sufficient lighting to work on my application, so instead I opted to follow Chloe, who was doing her power walk. I remained at a safe distance when I noticed she had cornered one of the cheating jocks. I tended to be a nuisance when it came to getting sources to open up.

The conversation was brief as the jock stormed away.

Seeing no chance in ruining something now I caught up with her.

"Chloe!" I called. "What'd you say to him? Normally your better at getting sources to talk."

"I just showed him this picture," Chloe said, handing me the camera. It showed Coach Walt facing a huddle group of figures wearing Letterman jackets, but the really interesting thing was that the sprinklers appeared to not be shooting water, but fire.

"Cool, what are you thinking? Meteor power?"

"Do you have another explanation?" Chloe asked smiling.

Several but none of them were as plausible as the first, for one I was near positive that Coach Walt was not from an alien planet. "Nope, lets go, I want to sneak a peek at tomorrow's front page."

Chloe smiled, and we made our way to the newspaper room.

0000

I was trying to read the story from over Chloe's shoulder when the computer spontaneously burst into flames, which then spread spread across the room like it had been covered in gasoline.

"That is definitely not natural," I said eyeing the flames.

"You think?" Chloe asked sarcastically, an edge of hysteria in her tone.

We backed away from the flames and into the wall, and I spotted the glow of the pep rally's bonfire below.

'I really hope Clark hears me', was my thought before I started yelling, "Help! Help!"

Chloe took her eyes away from the flames to turn around and join me. "Clark! Help!"

I saw Clark spot us and then run off, that combined with the smoke made me quit screaming. Chloe did as well, taking off her coat and turning it around so that it could cover her face and back, I copied her and flowed her as she somersaulted over the burning desk. We threw off our burning jackets and Chloe ran for the door, only to be stopped when it burst into flames as well.

"I hate organized sports!" I yelled, ignoring Chloe's surprised look, I knew just who was behind this.

The flames were as tall as us now, and surrounding us at all sides, "Oh my god," Chloe cried.

"Clara! Chloe!" I heard Clark yell and suddenly the flames died down.

Clark burst into the door and wrapped us in his arms.

0000

"The Torch torched. How's that for dramatic irony?" Clark asked, his smile faltering at the look Chloe shot him. "Just trying to get you to smile."

"This is more than arson, Clark. It's like the fire knew what we were doing."

"Or the person controlling it did," I said darkly.

At Clark's skeptical look Chloe continued, "Look at the facts! Kwan launches an investigation into the cheating scandal. Coach Walt tries to fry his car. One of his players comes forward, and he threatens them with pyrotechnic sprinklers. I am about to print that picture, and the Torch goes up in flames." Chloe finished gesturing to the charred room.

"Now you think he's behind the cheating scandal? Come on, Chloe."

"Coach obsessed with winning his 200th game helps bonehead players pass test to secure his position in the pantheon of high school sports."

"Do you have another copy of the picture?"

"No, it's kind of hard to recover the files."

I chose to speak up, "The hard drives are completely melted, there's nothing left to recover."

"We don't have any proof."

"Trevor Chapell," Chloe said in an epiphany.

"What about him?"

"Is he the one you tried to talk to earlier?" I asked curiously.

"Yes he was, he's also the one who talked to Kwan about the cheating. He wants to talk, I know it, but he's still scared to talk to me but I think he might open up to you."

Clark nodded in agreement.

"Clark?" I asked, unwilling to force the plaintive whine out of my voice, "I want to get a smoothie."

0000

Clark decided to take me to the Beanery, rather than home, so I could work on my application in peace and he could simultaneously watch me and watch out for Trevor.

I was surprised to see two familiar faces when we got inside, Lana Lang who was wearing one of the Beanery's green apron's and holding a notepad, and Lex Luthor who was sitting in a big armchair at a tiny table littered with blue folders.

"Well, if it isn't Smallville's latest football star," she cried.

"Lets see how I do tomorrow night," Clark replied, "Have you seen Trevor tonight?"

"No, he hasn't been in."

I took a seat in the chair opposite Lex, not in the mood to wait out Clark and Lana's talking.

"How are things going here?" Clark asked.

"Today is just one of those days I want to scream," said Lana.

"For what it's worth I think it's cool you got this job." So that exspalined the apron, but not why she was just standing there talking to Clark instead of taking orders.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry I'm not going to see you play tomorrow. New girl gets the worst shifts. So can I get you anything?"

"May I have a cup of coffee?"

"I'll have a chocolate peanut butter smoothie." I called out.

"Coming right up." Lana said.

"Thanks."

Clark pulled up a chair next to me, handing me a pen so I could start.

"Rumor has it Clark Kent joined the football team," said Lex.

"It's true," Clark said gesturing to his jersey.

"Congratulations, your father must be thrilled."

"Actually he freaked out and said I couldn't play."

"And now they won't stop fighting," I whined helplessly, but was ignored.

"I'm surprised with my dad. He claims I should make my own decisions but when I do, he shuts me down."

"And your out late, waiting for him to go to bed so you can avoid the uncomfortable silence that greets you when you get home," concluded Lex.

"Well yeah, but he's also here because I wanted a smoothie after my attempted murder." I said blithely.

Lex started, turning to me, alarm clear on his features, "Attempted murder?"

I nodded sleepily, "Chloe was typing an article on how the coach gave these jocks the math midterm and threatened their silence with py-ro-tech-nic sprinklers and I was with her when the computer, followed by the whole room burst into flames. I'm 97% sure it was Coach Walt, but we have no proof, and who do you think they'll listen to? Two freshmen girls with a ridiculous story, or the wildly respected coach, not even worth the waste of breath." I moped at the unfairness of it all.

"That's awful, maybe I can do something."

I shook my head, "Don't bother, based on the pattern of past events Clark will stop him in some heroic way and I wouldn't want anyone to take that away from him."

Clark glared at me before going back to the original subject, "How'd you know about the uncomfortable silence?"

"Uh, the Luthors wrote the book on uncomfortable silences," Lex said almost absently, before turning again to me, "Are you telling me the truth or do you just like surprising people?"

Both, I smiled mysteriously, already in a better mood. "I guess you'll find out, huh, Lex?" I turned back to my packet, filling out the next question.

"What are you working on?" Clark asked Lex, trying once again to change the subject.

Lex shrugged, dismissing my earlier spiel, and opened a folder, "I'm trying to figure out which poor bastards should get the ax. My father wants me to cut 20% of my workforce."

"Any way around it?"

"Once my father's made up his mind he's not easy to turn around."

Lana chose then to return with our drinks, "If it makes you guys feel any better you should have seen my aunt's face when I took this job. Not that I was eavesdropping or anything." Lana handed me a drink that looked remarkably like an iced coffee, and nothing like the smoothie I wanted.

"I guess we're all in the same boat."

"Except me, I'm the good twin right now," I muttered under my breath, and wasn't that an unpleasant surprise?

"No, no, you both stood your ground and are doing what you want. I caved. You two have inspired me," Lex said, holding up his whipped cream covered drink in a toast.

"Oh, yeah, joing the football team and pouring some coffee, we're a couple of real rebels." Clark said dryly.

"Long live the revolution." Lana joked.

Lex took a drink and so did I, "How is it?" Lana asked.

"Perfect," we replied in unison.

"Is that what you ordered?" Clark asked.

"Not even close."

I eyed my drink warily, "I asked for a smoothie, the only thing that and this have in common is that they're served cold."

Clark set his drink down gently, like it was about to leap out of his cup and eat him, making me laugh.

I reached over and took Lex's drink, and was pleasantly surprised to find it was hot cocoa, which was at least chocolate flavored, and got down to work next to Lex.

Maybe today wasn't a total bust after all.

0000

My good mood carried over into the next day, the night before I had been able to finish my booklet so I was positively ecstatic, even if the night did end with me camping out in my workshop.

I lost track of Clark after school and I assumed he was going to Trevor Campell's house, so I went with Chloe to the football game. Thus I was confused when he didn't show up for the first play.

"Clara! Chloe!" cried mom and I looked to see in surprise that dad had decided to join her.

I waved as Chloe cried, "Hi Mrs. Kent. Hi Mr. Kent."

"Smallville resident cynic have a change of heart?" asked mom smiling, no doubt referring to Chloe's presence at a football game.

"Well I decided to put my personal politics aside to support my friends," Chloe said, gesturing to the field.

"Yes, we're trying the same philosophy," said mom, gesturing to dad.

"Where's Clark?" asked Dad.

"I don't know, we we're supposed to meet him but he didn't show. I thought he was with you."

I stood up suddenly, "I'm going to go look for him, there isn't much point in watching all the other people play."

As I exited the stadium I constructed a plan of attack based on Clark's expected destinations for the day. After school he was supposed to go to Trevor's house to talk to him, then he was supposed to meet Chloe and I, but I was unsure if he was planning on going to the locker room first. If so then that would be where he was held up, if not at Trevor's.

I was mildly nervous entering the boy's locker room, even when logically, I knew I shouldn't be, as there were no boys to walk in on. Even then it was unreasonable as I was quite knowledgeable of human anatomy, both male and female, but chalked it up to cultural norms and moved on.

(I had found modesty a concept harder to grasp than others, if only because my idea of being exposed was if someone saw my code.)

I was passing the sweat box when I noticed Clark's red backpack sitting next to it, and when I looked inside I saw Clark's prone figure lying among some rocks and steam that appeared to be have a green tint.

"Great," I grumbled, pulling on the handle to find it locked, seeing no immediate alternative I tried ramming my shoulder into the door, but my small frame did little more than make it rattle.

"Clara?" I looked to see my dad coming toward me.

"It's Clark, he's trapped!" Dad came over and moved my aside, before kicking the door in. Dad ran in and grabbed Clark up by the shoulders, and I grabbed his feet as we dragged him out.

"It's the meteor rocks. That must be how the coach got exspo—" and then there was an impact at the back of my head and the world went black.

0000

When I regained consciousness I was being loaded into the back of an ambulance, but I was unaware of that at the time. All I could see were unfamiliar figures standing over me and moving me into a strange vehicle. My hands shot out only to be stopped by the straps on my arms. I emitted a wordless panicked scream, causing the figures over me to pause.

"Clara!"

I looked over to see a grown Kal-El and it all come rushing back, I recognized that I was in a gurney about to be loaded into an ambulance and I noted the dull throbbing pain at the base of my skull.

"What happened with Coach Walt?" I asked Clark.

For some reason Clark began to laugh and then just didn't stop.

0000

A while later I had been briefed on what had occurred when I was unconscious. Coach Walt had killed himself with his own flames in 'a tragic fire'. Clark was unscathed and I had a mild concussion.

"So that whole joke thing, not a joke." I looked over to see a mildly pissed looking Lex Luthor.

"Depends."

"On what?"

"If you believe the official report," I said, smiling slyly.